HERstory

i'm doing NaNoWriMo. and yes, she is FINE with it ;)

filthy, filthy blog-heads... NaNoWriMo is not a someone, nor is it some stupid piece of slang written by a nineteen-year old with typing tics and a spastic left pinky. NaNoWriMo is a cute abbreviation for NATIONAL NOVEL WRITING MONTH and yessss, i'm DOING it, and doing it and hopefully doing it well. this will be my second attempt at it...my first one fizzled because i was too busy to really put together FIFTY-THOUSAND words in one month. 2003 has me feeling positive about this challenge (read: i have way less of a life on the left coast), and i'm announcing my participation in this crazy contest not because i'm an "attention whore" (thanks, dj ank g) but because i want all of you to learn about it. it is a random sort of event that someone once forwarded to me, so, i consummate the karmic circle with a big bloggy bang as i publicize it here, on herstory.

c'mon...you know you want to add "novelist" to that frozen tundra of non-accomplishment that is your CV. ;) here's your chance! we can do it together. it'll be like kahani, only FUNNER.

i stole this info on NaNoWriMo from their website, just in case you are too lazy to click on the link above (and i know that most of you are that slothful!)...

What is NaNoWriMo?
National Novel Writing Month is a fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to novel writing. Participants begin writing November 1. The goal is to write a 175-page (50,000-word) novel by midnight, November 30.
Valuing enthusiasm and perseverance over talent and craft, NaNoWriMo is a novel-writing program for everyone who has thought fleetingly about writing a novel but has been scared away by the time and effort involved.

Because of the limited writing window, the ONLY thing that matters in NaNoWriMo is output. It's all about quantity, not quality. The kamikaze approach forces you to lower your expectations, take risks, and write on the fly.

Make no mistake: You will be writing a lot of crap. And that's a good thing. By forcing yourself to write so intensely, you are giving yourself permission to make mistakes. To forgo the endless tweaking and editing and just create. To build without tearing down.

As you spend November writing, you can draw comfort from the fact that, all around the world, other National Novel Writing Month participants are going through the same joys and sorrows of producing the Great Frantic Novel. Wrimos meet throughout the month to offer encouragement, commiseration, and -- when the thing is done -- the kind of raucous celebrations that tend to frighten animals and small children.
In 2002, we had about 14,000 participants. Over 2100 of them crossed the 50k finish line by the midnight deadline, entering into the annals of NaNoWriMo superstardom forever. They started the month as auto mechanics, out-of-work actors, and middle school English teachers. They walked away novelists.

so. as of midnight tonight, i am a potential novelist. a dilettante with laptop glare in her eyes and a burning, egotistical fire in her belly. oh wait, that's the chole i had for dinner. well, whatever. my eyes are still glaring, er, reflecting laptop glare, so let's forget about my gym-perfected belly. ;) i will be posting updates (glorified word counts) on the blog to keep myself accountable. and when i'm done, i might even post the crap (because surely, it shall be CRAP if i have to write 1666.666666666 words per DAY) on here somewhere, so you can be REALLY useless at work or school. :) if only your employers knew what the blog and flog did to productivity...speaking of wasting your time, if any of you want to be characters in my magnum opus, or if you have story ideas, i will GLADLY accept comments or emails.

six hours to go...and to november, i say BRING IT. i don't celebrate thanksgiving whilst in california ANYWAY. i can so do this. :) cheer me on, okay?

back to life, back to reality

back from a fantasyyyyyyy...

did you miss me? i was gone. :) i went back east for a week and obviously didn't want to come back.
yes, yes i am aware that i could have blogged from afar...but the truth is, when i'm in nyc or dc, i have way more neat-o things to do than bitch and moan-- hence my overwhelming desire to ensconce myself 3000 miles to the right permanently.

you see, i'm actually an adorably happy person, except for when i'm...here ;) so. now you know why there was no new content. i heard that a few of you actually checked out my friend abhi's blog in my absence, which makes me even happier that i left :)

still, i will admit that a wee part of me missed venting, so i have no less than THREE posts in the blog pipeline, ready to singe your nose hairs right off. the flog was already updated, so tune in there for d.c. commentary as well. your poor employers will never know what hit them as a gross lack of productivity again dominates your day.

guess who's biz-ack... ;)

feels like i'm 17 again

so there are these moments in your life, when you know that in just a few hours, EVERYTHING is going to change. you feel anticipation's clammy, unmistakable caress on the back of your neck, and you feel ghosts of an innocent sort of excitement flutterby your stomach. i'm going to berkeley tonight, to my favourite caffe (their spelling, not mine and they are so phenomenal they can spell it any damned way they please). i'm going to read some bard, drink some brew (well, not really. this is the one place i drink sweet stuff, b/c they do it SO well) and talk to some boy.

twelve minutes...and the red rocket gets to unleash its merciless wrath on unsuspecting sunday drivers that may haplessly lie in her path. post-oil change, and techron-ed to the max...my little rice cooker is rarin' to go...and so am i.

there's always something beautifully uplifting about fleeing the burbs for a happier, dirtier place. until i return to our twenty-first century rome...baghdad by the bay will have to comfort this exiled refugee. ten minutes. then a little over an hour. and then i will be BLISSSSSSSSSED. of course you wanted to know. so i told. :)

ch-ch-ch-changes

the "about me" page has been updated...well, the list that proves that i have the greatest taste in music EVER has, at least. because i know you care and actually read it... :) also, as of four seconds ago, i have decided that i'm going to change my picture on here daily. just because i can. :) my, who's a little dictator this morning? oh, *i* am. :) :) :)

off to church to pray for you, me and most importantly, deliverance from bad republican "leaders".

i'm famous. kind of.

so.  my intern harin messages me, asking if i've checked my email...and i sigh a bemused sort of sigh, whilst wondering what award he's won this time, because he's obviously fishing for a congratulations... :)  then i actually open my hotmail, and i'm astounded to see an email decrying the ridiculously untenable ignorance that the PRESIDENT of the college dems displayed towards louisiana gubernatorial candidate bobby jindal. 

and i start to feel that familiar flush, that heat, that rage.  after all, just last year, "anna 1.0" was political anna vs this year's happier (and richer) banking "anna 2.0".  2002 was full of sleepless nights spent trying to help my ungrateful community; so it was only natural that my intense hatred of injustice and ignorance came roaring back.  also, i was a CR in college ;) so that just added high octane gas to my engine.   i click on the hyperlink for the "good" president's email.  and i let him HAVE it.  after all, harin DID say that he wanted concerned indian americans to voice their concern...so i fairly screeched mine...

 

From: Anna John
Subject : Ashley- remove head from ass, then email.

    
Thanks for reminding me of why I was a CR in college; your contentions are ignorant, your words are pathetic and you are possibly in need of a remedial education.

LSU law school must be desperate to accept such a complete idiot.

When the GOP controls everything, it will be through the "efforts" of morons like you.  Keep up the GREAT work.

-a "token" genius with the GOP

i hit send with a passion that almost broke the "enter" key on my vaio.  then i felt remorse; harin is my southern gentleman, my tentative jiminy cricket timidly asserting when i've done wrong.  perhaps he wanted smooth-as-my-godson's-ass Anna to respond, in a more professional and ladylike fashion.  i resigned myself grimly to a future AIM convo, where i pleaded with harin to accept me for the fire-breathing dragon that i am...and i promptly forgot about all of this, b/c i have bigger things to worry about-- like what the bleeding hell am i going to wear to SALF in wdc???

so.  imagine my complete surprise at getting a phone call...from the PRESS.  they wanted to interview...me?  i was high from an ancient kind of La...last year i got interviewed rampantly and i loved it.  i still have a tape of the hour i spent with the bbc world service.  yeah.  i was THAT cool ;)  but i thought that i had left this erstwhile life behind; no more lunching with ambassadors, no more making speeches on post 9/11 civil rights issues, no more fighting the INS/DOJ/W regime...no more politicaldesi.  there have been moments recently, when i actually felt like changing my aim sn.  it just doesn't feel apposite any more.  not for this avatar, affectionately named "anna 2.0" by someone who knows me better than any of you.  i'm not a political anything now.  i work at a bank. i spend my free time learning about hedge funds.  bonds.  all part of my plan to transfer back to nyc with my cushy benefits intact.  i live and breathe money now, C.R.E.A.M. is my creed (sigh...to remember a world where meth had cred...those were the days).

i was rusty at first.  my words stilted, less than graceful.  i snapped off the tv, threw the vaio on the couch and commenced my trademark pacing, phone gilding my ear with heat...or was it my ear that was burning my phone?  i suddenly felt my body temperature spike.  what was all this?  was that fire i felt in every blood cell, each suddenly pulsing faster as my brain rediscovered a dusty channel that had been ignored...and then the synapses went nuts...and i was ON.  i could feel it.  my words were flowing so fast the world actually felt like it was spinning faster, sheerly through the velocity of the sound rushing past my lips.  i was raw, candid, uncontrollably articulate.  reckless with my choice of words.  occasionally profane.  the passion, the livid indignation, it was all so very sweetly familiar.

he tried to end the interview twice, with a "this is my last question", but each time, my answer prompted another question. or two.  then it really was over, and i threw my phone on my chaise.  what was happening to me?  i went to the bathroom to retie the messy i'm-in-the-house-and-too-busy-to-care updo that had collapsed and that's when i saw my eyes flash.  i saw my rare single dimple, who only makes appearances when i am TRULY happy (i.e. new, limited edition diesel is procured, little blue boxes tied with white ribbons are offered, my daddy calls me princess...so once a year basically) out and proud.  the dimple gave me pause. 

me?  happy?  but this was the world i fled, determined to feel estranged from forever.

why did i feel all love and rockets oh-so-alive?  epiphany, brain, time for an epiphany.  i waited.  the dimple started to recede.  i went back to my daddy's favourite wing chair.  closed my mind.  tried to take the deep breaths i find so difficult to master.  and there it was.  i was HAPPY because i got to "do it my way".  i don't answer to any shitty non-profit now.  they don't pay my fucking salary.  my first amendment rights are ALL MINE to exercise however i see fit.  i miss standing up for shit that enrages me, but when i tried to make a career out of that, i missed being allowed to be myself.  for the first time, those twin desires coexisted, perfectly.  i was restless to see how the interview would play...i did my part, but as a former "journalist" and strategist, i know it's all about the spin.  i tried not to think about it; what's done was done.

this morning, the article showed up in my hotmail inbox.  and the dimple practically pierced my flesh.  those of you who are closest to me were virtual witnesses to my explosive, all-encompassing glee via AIM. the bitch is BACK, i muttered to myself, as i typed frenetically to the actor, the DJ, the new yorker, the intern-activist and the intern-journalist, simultaneously.

watch out now...

recall me to nyc, please

I recall when this state wasn’t such a mess

Those of you who sweat my flog already know that I voted today; in fact, I rushed home from my polling place (my shitty elementary school) to upload six pictures that told a story of civic engagement, at the risk of running late for work. It was worth it though; voting, flogging, engaging, all of it.

Many of you left comments on the flog—“hope you destroyed the GOP” etc, which is mildly entertaining, because as any of my beloved interns will tell you, until late last year I WAS the GOP ;) still, I can understand why there is this sense of me being a potential dem…after all I RENAMED my beloved flog “FUCK THE RECALL”. It usually goes by “trompe le monde” in honour of the greatest piece of vinyl of all time. But that is how anti-nonsense I am—I will change its name and forsake my pixies for a day, because this entire recall is garbage.

So yes, there is actually a picture of me on the interweb, pushing a CHAD through numero five-o, which expresses my “NO” on the question of recalling my beleaguered guber, er, governor. But that is where my donkey-proclivities end, children. My prescient ex-bf almost got it right with the voicemail he left for me twenty minutes ago; “did you vote for the governator?” he asked, in a flawless Ah-Nuld impersonation (good job by you, TAN)…this has far more meaning than many of you may realise—you see, I got my start in the Wilson administration, and Wilson’s entire apparatus moved swiftly behind arnold, lock stock and elephant, this year. So many of you assumed, not without reason, that my loyalty to the first (and only) presidential candidate I had ever endeavored on behalf of would place me to the right of this recall…and yet you were wrong. I was disappointed in arnold and in no mood to cheer him on, even if all of my old colleagues were slaving away for his cause.

So. Everyone wants to know, via comment, email or vmail, for whom did I cast my vote?

Tom mcclintock.

Why? Well first of all, I’m partial to cute guys named tom. ;)

In all seriousness, I voted for him because I know him. I know cruz too. See, I worked with BOTH of them when I was at the assembly desk back in 1998. I interacted with them extensively. And I was never EVER impressed with cruz. Meanwhile, tom was someone who earned my respect, as an orator, as a conscious defender of his ideals--even if they were massively unpopular—and as a good assemblyman. I appreciated the fire in his eyes, because I know passion too, and I recognised it there. Also, tom was one of the only politicians who did NOT make a pass at me.

Which is not to say that cruz did. But he was with a few people who did it to the point of harassment, and he never cared. Which is why this “oooh, for the sake of our daughters, sisters, mothers, destroy arnold, he’s mean!” campaign smacks of my least favourite word—hypocrisy. I will completely promise you, that the entire time I worked for the chief clerk, I was never bothered or made to feel uncomfortable by a single rep. The dems? Well, there are stories that I am bound not to reveal. ;)

then again, maybe if i was a blonde amazon like my sorority sisters, perhaps then i would have been GOP "bate" marterial. the cynic in me smirks. the dems harassed me because they are multicultural and inclusive. love it.

so.

i voted for tom.

i knew he didn't have a shot, and somehow that made me like him more. if i was going to waste my vote, i was going to waste it on the underdog. and then i was going to plan my hegira back to nyc.

apparently, some of you LOVE tiny penises. not that there's anything wrong with that.

it's always fun to see how people get to my blog. :)

my flog is often responsible for sending surfers over, as is the "recently updated" feature that typepad allows us to enable; you'll see this on my own blog, to the right. whenever one of us typepadders posts, it shows up on that list. the reason why i allow this on *my* page is because i'm grateful for the random hits that i receive when i update HERSTORY, and she shows up on "randomblogger.typepad.com's" page. it's all karmic, you see? what goes around, refers around ;)

recently, i've been amazed at the number of times i see "www.google.com/search" as the source of a hit...so today, i whimsically went through my search engine referrals and compiled a list of items that people searched for, that serendipitously lead them to ME:

male bharatnatyam pics

my sister ass (editor's note: eeeew! you sick fuck...unless you are Caligula...just DON'T!)

friendster profile

blog "delta gamma" sister

penis (boy)

thirty-inch biceps

"rio americano" 1988

indian friendster

and the winner, for the single most number of searches is...

tiny penis.

yeah, you read right. out of 108 hits received yesterday, 16 were thanks to perverts searching for "tiny penis" on google or occasionally, yahoo. who the bleeding hell googles "tiny penis"? should you have nothing better to google, please contact me via the "comments" function of this blog, and i will assign you quite a fucking list of shit to google, all of which will be more edifying than "tiny penis".

and just for the record? we at HERSTORY are categorically opposed to tiny penises. especially when they are transported about in piece of shit mitsubishi eclipses that get spanked by the mighty red honda civic EX which is STOCK...and don't you forget it. ah, what will the world do when i get a REAL sports car to replace my pretend one? in the immortal flow of this muchacha mala's beloved beatnuts..."watch out now!" ;)

update! salil jay changes HIS friendster profile... :)

"Women. I love women. Especially hot Mallu women (see: "Ranjana." see also: "Anna." see also: "Bina."), I cannot abide people who are easily spooked, and I truly despise panicky people. If you like disliking things (other than stupidity), take it somewhere else. Other than that, I love everyone. Who wants a hug? See: Parimal. See also: Vivek. Addendum: I want to meet Anna. See her "Who I Want to Meet" section for more info. :-) "

sigh.

i so adore this boy. sjm, you rock my world :)

see? he GETS me. and i get a shout-out. love it. my sunday is shaping up nicely...p.s. go peep my sjm's blog, especially if you like vituperative nastiness, and really, if you are reading me, it's obvious that you crave it.